


A Place to Call Home

by lightblue_Nymphadora



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-21
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-09-01 08:27:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 13,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8616787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightblue_Nymphadora/pseuds/lightblue_Nymphadora
Summary: After the war, Harry has an idea to help repair those hurt most by Voldemort's reign - the children of the Wizarding World. Mentions of Ron/Hermione, Harry/Ginny. XPosted from FFN





	1. Sleepless Nights

Harry awoke, breathing hard, with his hands covering his ears. This did nothing to help block out the screams and sounds of battle that had been plaguing his dreams recently. The door creaked, and it was all he could do to not immediately grab his wand and start sending curses flying. He felt a stab of guilt for all those times they'd made fun of Moody.

"Master Harry?" Kreacher croaked, peeking into the room. "Shall Kreacher fetch your calming potions again?"

That would make the third night this week, and Harry was starting to worry that he was growing dependent. "No, thank you Kreacher. I...I think I'm okay."

The House Elf nodded and shuffled back into the gloom of the hall.

Harry rolled back over and stared out of the window. His breathing slowly returned to normal as his thoughts focused on the next day. He'd be going over to the Weasleys', and….

He sat up again, and looked at the clock. Molly and Arthur had both insisted he come over any time he didn't want to be alone in the house. But it was two in the morning. He felt it coming on - the panic; the huge, body quaking sobs that would keep him up until dawn. He jumped out of bed and hurriedly put his clothes on, taking deep gulps of air to try and calm himself.

"Kreacher," he croaked.

The Elf appeared before him, concern adding extra creases to his wizened face. "Master Harry?"

"I'm… I'm going over to the Weasleys'," Harry panted. He felt light-headed, but in control now. "I'll be back tomorrow afternoon." He sprinted out to the porch and Disapparated, feeling the squeezing sensation and also a rather painful stinging in his leg. When he landed again, he saw a tiny spot of blood on his jeans - he'd Splinched himself.

The lane was dark and quiet as he walked up to the Burrow. The heavy, aching pain in his chest was coming back again, and he trembled as he knocked at the door.

Arthur appeared moments later, wand out. He lowered it, and pulled Harry into a hug just as the eighteen year old started to sob.

"Shhh," Arthur said. "It's alright. It's okay, Harry. Come inside."

Harry woke up to the smell of fried bacon and the sound of pages turning. He opened his eyes and smiled to see Ron sitting on the floor and reading a comic book.

"Morning, mate," Ron said. "Mum says to come down whenever we're ready, but not too soon because she's having a heart to heart with Hermione."

"A good one or a bad one?" Harry asked groggily. He reached for his glasses and sat up in bed, still wrapped in about thirty blankets.

"A good one, I think."

"When...when are you two leaving?" Harry asked.

Hermione had wanted to wait before bringing her parents back. There were still a few Death Eaters at large, but the Ministry was closing in. Plus, she'd wanted to spend some time at Hogwarts, training with McGonagall and Flitwick on repairing memories. She and Ron would be off to Australia soon to try and find Mr. and Mrs. Granger.

"Tomorrow, if…." Ron trailed off and bit his lip.

"I'm fine, Ron," Harry said, knowing that the pair of them wouldn't want to leave after he'd showed up soaking wet and sobbing at two in the morning. "It's okay. You two need to do this."

"But you're not okay, mate," Ron said quietly. "None of us are."

"Right. I just meant, I'm fine with you two going. I'll be... I can work on things here while you're gone. But you better send me a postcard," he added with a little smile.

Ron smiled back and nodded. "Come on down, mate. Mum's making breakfast. She wanted to have a private word with Hermione, and we should probably go rescue her."

"I'm sure Hermione's fine. Is everyone else up? Am I late?"

"Nah. Everyone's been doing their own thing. Come on down."

There was a small, but delicious breakfast waiting for them when they reached the kitchen. Hermione and Molly separated from a hug and sat down to eat with the boys. Hermione looked as though she'd been crying, but she seemed in good spirits.

"Do you know where you're going to look?" Harry asked as they tucked into eggs and tomatoes.

"Melbourne," Hermione said. "That's where I...er...sent them. But if they've gone away, it may take a while. What are your plans while we're gone? Is Kingsley still trying to talk you into the Aurors?"

"Yeah. I don't know about that, but I know I'll have to keep doing interviews and everything."

"You sound thrilled," Ron said, grinning.

"Ecstatic, really," Hermione added.

"I'm overjoyed, and everyone knows it."

"Especially after he walked out on... what was his name?" Ginny asked, entering the room. "Vance Kilkpatrick, from the Prophet."

"In my defense, it had been a long day, and he was really getting on my nerves."

"I was there for that one," Ron said, snagging another helping of potatoes. "Kilkpatrick was a right prat."

"Maybe you should take a trip too, Harry dear," Molly said. "It might do you good to get away for a while."

"Maybe," Harry said slowly. "I... sort of suggested it. I told Kingsley that I wanted to go to Spain for a bit to clear my head. He was supportive, but he thinks everything will be a bit shaky if the savior of the Wizarding World isn't seen doing... er... clean up."

"You've done quite enough, I think," Molly told him gently. "But I think I understand what he means. Still, there's no use in you running yourself into the ground being the Ministry's mascot."

The group steered away from any talk about the Ministry or the War for the rest of breakfast, passing the time by grilling Ginny on her upcoming Quidditch tryouts. When they'd eaten and done the washing up, Ginny took Harry's hand and nodded toward the garden.

"It's nice out today. Walk with me?" she asked.

"Sure."

Out in the garden, insects were buzzing merrily in the flower bushes. It was a warm day, but the cloud cover kept it from getting sticky and disgusting. Ginny and Harry sat down near one of the trees.

"You've been having the nightmares again," Ginny said. It wasn't a inquiry, but Harry answered anyway.

"Yes. They're... not worse, but more frequent."

"Have you talked to someone?"

"I have a standing appointment with a Healer named Krampus."

"Lovely name. But is it helping? Do you like him? Or her..."

"He's great. Really... calm. As for it helping..." He trailed off, shrugging.

"You need something to do - take your mind off things. I'm not talking about the Aurors," she added, seeing him about to speak. "Something else. That's just going to keep the war in your mind forever. More so than it already is."

"I feel like I have to say yes," Harry said, picking at a blade of grass.

"You took care of your end of the bargain by saving the world " Ginny said. "They can handle clean up. You don't have to do anything you don't want to do."

He looked at her then and smiled. "Don't I? I mean, I could wander off into the sunset, I suppose. Take you with me off to Jamaica," he suggested, wiggling his eyebrows. Then he laughed at her emphatic nod. "Okay, maybe next year -"

"Maybe? Potter, you're going to have to do much better than that," Ginny said, crossing her arms.

"Fine - we'll go next June. How does that sound?"

"Fabulous - but you're not being serious about the real issue here."

"I know," he said, scooting closer to her. "I guess I just think if I leave…."

"What?" Ginny asked quietly. "What will happen if you leave? Voldemort won't come back. Bellatrix won't come back. The Death Eaters won't reorganize if you take a week to go get some sun, or catch a Quidditch tournament."

He rested his head on her shoulder. "Are you sure?" he asked, smiling again.

"If they did? They'd have to go through me to get to you. And I wouldn't be friendly with them."

"I'm sure you wouldn't."

The thing about Hogwarts, Harry mused as he walked up the castle's steps, was that it always smelled the same. Even when he'd been smuggled in, in the midst of a war, there was something comfortingly familiar about it.

He'd had tea with Hagrid, in keeping with his promise to Ginny to get out more, and now he wandered through the halls.

"Harry, m'boy!"

"Hello, Professor!" Harry said as Slughorn waddled toward him. He shook the man's hand warmly and nodded to the stack of mail he was carrying. "Fan mail, sir?"

Slughorn chuckled. "I do a few consultations with St. Mungo's every year," he explained. "They have their student Healers write in with things, and I do my best to give advice."

Harry grinned and nodded. Same Slughorn he'd known - always the influencer. "That's kind of you, sir."

"Well, m'boy, now that the war is over, I find myself wanting to do more good in the world. I spent too long hiding from it. Oh dear," he mumbled, looking down at one of the envelopes.

"What's wrong, sir?"

"Young Mister Thornbeck - I don't suppose you knew him. A first year, last year. Poor boy. Even with everything going on at Hogwarts, he still wanted to stay here over the summer."

Harry reeled back in shock. "What?"

"A rather quiet, sad boy. I believe his home life is stressful."

"Has anyone looked into it?" Harry asked.

"Ah, m'boy. We have no authority to do so. But I've talked to McGonagall about him. She's assured me that he's not being hurt."

Harry nodded, but didn't respond. He had a thought. A thought that was simmering, bubbling, brewing into a full fledged idea. "Er...professor?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"Would you be available for tea in two days?"

"Indeed, m'boy!"

"Fantastic! I...er...I have something to do now. I'll owl you, professor. And thank you!" Harry said as he ran back toward the entrance.

"Er… You're very welcome, m'boy. But for what?"

"A way to move on!"


	2. The Plan

Kreacher had gotten used to his master running into the house like his pants were on fire, but even he had to stand back as the explosion that was Harry Potter entered Grimmauld Place that day.

"Kreach - oh, you're here," Harry said, noticing the elf on the bottom stair.

"Is Master Harry quite alright?"

"Fine, fantastic Kreacher," Harry panted. "Questions...I have questions."

"Would Master Harry please take a seat?"

Harry flopped down on the bottom step and caught his breath. He gratefully accepted the glass of water Kreacher brought him, and downed it in three swigs. "Thank you, Kreacher. Um… How many rooms does Grimmauld Place have?"

"Approximately eight bedrooms, Master Harry," Kreacher said. "Plus the upper study, the library, kitchen, dining room, and living room, of course."

"Okay… That could work - wait, approximately."

"Yes, Master Harry," Kreacher said slowly, as if Harry had gone mad, and he was thinking of way to escape. "You'll remember that the upstairs attic is not, technically speaking, a bedroom."

"Oh! That's right." Harry, remembering back to round three of cleaning this place up, recalled that it was originally the nursery. Because hey, the Black family traditions weren't creepy enough. Let's put baby in the attic…. "Kreacher, I've had an idea, and I may need your help. Will you be up to a delivery today?"

"Indeed, Master Harry."

"Thanks!"

Harry was a whirlwind for the rest of that day. Since he didn't know where to start, he tried to do everything at once. He wrote letters to Kingsley, McGonagall, and Hermione. He went through the house, room by room, with a tape measure to see exactly how much space he had. He wrote to Slughorn, and to Ron and Neville. He looked through the library seven times for three different things. By the end of the day, he was exhausted. But he had two answers, at least - one from Kingsley, agreeing to meet with him the next day, and one from Neville, that simply said, "Count me in, mate."

He was in a thoughtful frame of mind as he tucked in to the soup and rolls that Kreacher had prepared for dinner.

"Kreacher?" he said, a thought occurring to him. "What exactly goes into a House Elf's contract?"

"It is quite simple," the Elf croaked. "The Elf is chosen and paid for, and their magic is bound to a family. Or, in the case of Hogwarts, to a location. Is Master Harry in the market for another Elf?"

"I've had an idea, Kreacher. I think one or two more might be in order." Harry explained to Kreacher what he intended to do, and nearly laughed when the Elf nodded solemnly and said,

"Master Harry must find a hobby."

The next day found Harry strolling into the Ministry bright an early. He smiled as people waved and nodded at him. Not so long ago, he reflected, he would've been stunned - or killed - on sight. Now, there was nearly a standing ovation as he strolled into Kingsley's office.

"Harry," Kingsley said, hugging him. "I have to admit, this was a bit of a surprise."

"You know me, Kingsley," Harry said with a grin, "I'm always one for a surprise."

Kingsley didn't waste any time once they were seated in his office. Harry understood the all-business attitude. In the months following the Battle, Kingsley was the single busiest man in the Ministry. He put on a pair of reading glasses and held Harry's letter up. "A Wizarding orphanage…."

"I know it's going to take some work," Harry said. "But… listen, Kingsley, I know I can tell you this. Even if this doesn't work out, or doesn't even get off the ground, I need you to know. Voldemort and I were… People who knew him before he...changed… they said we were alike. He grew up not understanding - only ever using his powers to hurt. I'm not saying anything would have been different. But I know I grew up the same way - the Sorting Hat even wanted to put me into Slytherin. And maybe, if we could reach magical kids who don't have any place to go… maybe we could stop another Voldemort."

Kingsley was silent for a long moment. When he spoke again, it was in a lower tone. "This… would be a great thing, Harry. But I don't know if you understand the magnitude of what you're asking."

"I do - I know, it's against the Statute of Secrecy, plus probably a whole lot of other things…." Harry waited, staring at Kingsley and hoping the man would understand why he needed to do this. Hoping that he at least wouldn't leave with a firm no.

Kingsley took off his glasses and wiped sweat from his head. "Who else knows about your plan?"

"Professor McGonagall, Professor Slughorn, Hermione, Ron, and Neville."

"Good. If we're going to do this, we'll need to keep the pool small for now. If this is to work, there cannot be interference from every corner of our community hoping to gain a good public image. And let me be clear, Harry... We cannot save everyone."

Echoes of Hermione's "saving people thing" accusation, and Harry bristled a little. He calmed when he saw Kingsley's knowing little smile. "Right…."

"I understand, and agree with, your assertion that we should start with Wizarding children who lost parents in the War. However some of those children are outside of our care. Parents who came over from France, and the Netherlands…. And we will have to tread carefully when dealing with children with abusive families. Things won't always be as simple as having Dumbledore send a letter to the Dursleys and then coming to collect you. You have to remember that."

"I… I get it. I do. And I promise not to go off my head."

"You're meeting with McGonagall and Slughorn soon?"

"Hopefully. I'm hoping to hear back from them by tonight."

"Then I suggest you and I have a brief review of Wizarding law," Kingsley said. "And see if we can't find a few loopholes that will let us get started."


	3. Getting to Work

The next few weeks were so busy, Harry hardly knew one day from the next. Mostly it was meetings. Meetings with solicitors and Kingsley, meetings with Hermione and Kingsley, meetings with Kingsley and McGonagall…. When Harry woke up to knocking at his door on the Friday of the third week, he literally groaned. What had he forgotten? Was he late for something? He threw on a shirt and ran downstairs to answer the door.

"Bloody hell, mate," Neville said, grinning. "You look a mess."

"You should've owled us," Ron said. "We would've come by tomorrow instead."

"Sorry," Harry told them, standing aside so they could enter the house. "I just woke up. But I thought we were working in the afternoon."

"It is the afternoon," Neville said, squeezing Harry's shoulder. "But I'm just glad you're sleeping."

Harry gave them both a shy smile. "Right. Well….should we get started?"

They called it the Second Great Cleaning of Grimmauld Place. This time it wasn't about getting the dangerous stuff out, but taking stock of everything they had. There was plenty of broken furniture, and things that would need to be moved around depending on how many children moved in, but there was a lot of stuff that was still serviceable. The crashes and booms of them tossing things over the railing were, as Ron said, incredibly satisfying now that they could do it without the portrait of Mrs. Black screeching at them. They vanished the bric a brac and trooped into the kitchen around six o'clock that evening, starving and thankful for Kreacher, who had made steak and kidney pie for dinner.

"Master Harry had owls today," Kreacher said, passing him three envelopes.

"Thank you, Kreacher." Harry watched the House Elf shuffle away. He spoke quietly to Neville and Ron, "He's moving a lot slower these days…. I don't know…." He broke off, clearing his throat, and looked down at the letters. "I think we have a bit of help, gents."

"Luna?" Ron guessed.

"And Hannah and Parvati. When can you lot make it over here again?" he asked them.

"I'm in whenever you need me," Neville said. "I have my apprenticeship with Sprout, but that doesn't start until November."

"Hermione and I got her parents settled back in this week," Ron told him. "I think we could both make it on Monday or Wednesday."

"She can get time off of work?"

"Mate, she could take a trip to Majorca with no notice and they'd probably just compliment her tan when she got back." Ron grinned at him and Neville. "She's their golden child. I'll let her know to take an extra long lunch."

"I think we should get together and talk about the details," Harry said, the fire of purpose burning inside of him again. "Kingsley and I have fixed all the legal necessities. I have another meeting with him Monday morning."

"So let's meet at noon and have lunch," Neville said. "I think this is going to be great, Harry."

Harry nodded and tucked into his dinner. He hoped Neville was right.

*

Harry felt an odd sensation as he walked through the halls of the Ministry that Monday. The group would be meeting all together for the first time that afternoon, and he knew the meeting was going to be important. He was hyped up for this, but his friends had always been his anchor. He knew they'd keep him grounded, and point out any flaws in the plan. But the meeting this morning...this might be the brick wall.

"Kingsley?"

"Good morning, Harry!" Kingsley said, indicating the chair across from him. "Don't look so nervous."

Harry laughed. "Sorry. I just keep thinking this is going to blow up in my face. But I'd rather that happen now than when we have kids in the mix."

"I know," Kingsley said. "And speaking of the children…." He picked up a few letters from his desk.

"Are those responses? Already?" Harry yelped.

"There are about ten - kids living in orphanages, and kids living with family members. We don't have the authority to make investigations out of the blue, but if complaints come in we can step in. We do have a brand new family services office to check in with the children, thanks to Hermione."

Harry grinned proudly, remembering his best friend standing in a power suit in front of the Wizengamot. "So...what do we do next?"

"You lot have to get the plans for your summer home together. And it desperately needs a name. The solicitors have been all over me for one."

"We're meeting today. I'll get it to you."

"Very well. As soon as you have a plan for curriculum and how you plan to care for the children in order, we can approach the Wizengamot. Harry?"

"Yes?"

Kingsley smiled his calm, reassuring smile. "You're doing a good thing. Your friends are behind you. Relax. There are going to be bumps in the road, but you're doing a good thing."

Harry relaxed in his chair, and smiled.


	4. The RJ Lupin House

Harry had conjured four large whiteboards, and Parvati had brought a large ledger notebook to take any notes. The morning had been largely wasted, due to the entire group being too excited about the idea to do productive things like take notes. But once they'd had lunch and calmed down, they'd gathered in the sitting room to work.

"Staff, curriculum, trips, and care," Harry said, writing them on each of the boards. "Let's start with staff."

"Us," Ron said, taking a sip of his tea.

"But us how?" Luna asked. "What will each of us do?"

"Harry's headmaster," Neville said, grinning.

"I most certainly am not," Harry said, calmly, but wrote his name on the board anyway. "Neville, what do you want to do?"

"Dorm manager for the lads," Neville said.

"I'll take that job for the girls," Parvati said.

Harry wrote it on the whiteboard. "Luna?"

"Can I be in charge of trips?" she said.

"Sure! Hannah?"

"Head of the kitchen. I'm sure one of my staff will be happy to be working remote in London."

"Let's move on to curriculum…."

They discussed what the kids would learn during the summer when they, the students, couldn't do magic. They talked about the kinds of trips they could take, and how they could get around the city with and without magic. By three o'clock that afternoon, all of the whiteboards were full, and Parvati had a cramp in her hand from taking notes. Harry was about to suggest that they adjourn for the day, when the door burst open and Ginny ran in.

"I got it!" she yelped.

Harry stood in shock for a moment, before running over and scooping her up into a hug. "I knew it! I knew you'd get it!"

"Er...what's going on, mate?" Neville asked as Ron jumped up to hug Ginny too.

"You're looking at the newest Chaser for the Hollyhead Harpies," Ginny said, smiling brightly at them.

There was a general uproar of happiness at this, and Harry stood back, genuine happiness filling him as he watched his friends. He just barely heard the knock at the door when it came and he hurried over to see who was there.

"Potter," Professor McGonagall said with a smile.

"Afternoon, Professor! Come in, please," he offered.

"No thank you, Potter. I have a few appointments that I must take care of before the day is out. I heard through Kingsley about your project," she said, taking a sheet of parchment out of her dragonskin handbag and passing it to him. "I have an old friend who supplies magical furniture. I think he may be able to help you outfit the house for your students."

"Thank you, Professor."

"Don't mention it, Potter. I'm happy to be of any help I can."

"Er...now that you mention it...would you mind taking a look at our curriculum? We haven't gotten past field trips and a magical history of London."

"Come up to Hogsmeade this weekend, and we'll talk. My friend should be in contact in a few days about the furniture."

*

Harry wiped his hands on his trousers, more nervous than he'd been in quite some time. Kingsley had been good about keeping the press conference as small as possible, but when reporters got wind of the fact that the Famous Harry Potter was making an announcement, they tended to get a bit antsy. Thus, there were still about fifty people from the different media outlets, plus around sixty more in the hall of the Ministry, just praying that someone left so that they could get in.

"I'm pleased to announce a new, Ministry-backed initiative," Harry whispered to himself. "I'm pleased to announce a new, Ministry-backed initiative…." He felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned to see Ginny. Relief flooded him. "You made it," he said.

"Practice doesn't start until Friday, and there's no way I'd let you make a prat out of yourself without at least being here for moral support," she said, giving him a small kiss on the cheek. "Harry?"

"Yeah?"

She smiled. "You're going to be great. The Ministry has been all over the place since the War - trying to do what's right. They've been trying to revolutionize this department, that department...pass laws so these things will never happen again…. But in all of that," she said, pulling him into a hug, "you're one of the few who's stopped to think about the kids. That's what makes you special, Potter. So don't be nervous. They're going to love you for this."

Harry swallowed hard, trying not to tear up at her words. His emotions were always near the surface these days, but he'd prefer to keep it together until after the interview, if possible. "Thanks, Ginny," he whispered.

"You're welcome. Now go out there and make the announcement."

He grinned and gave her a thumbs up.

Kingsley stood next to the podium, having just given a brief introduction. He smiled warmly at Harry, and gestured as if to say, "It's all yours."

Harry cleared his throat and spoke into the microphone. "Hello, everyone. Thank you for being here today. I'm pleased to announce a new, Ministry backed initiative that will be opening next summer. As all of you know, I lost my parents in the first War. I grew up not knowing who I was - not understanding the things I could do. And my home life...well, let's just say that meeting Ron Weasley on the train...he was the first friend I ever made. And Hogwarts was the first place I truly felt I had a home. I know of other stories like this. And I know that our magical children are hurting. You see, this War was worse than the first. It left a lot of families broken - a lot of damage to repair. I want to do my part to help, but I want most of all to make sure that the children like me - the kids whose parents died fighting for what's right - grow up loved and cared for and understood. Therefore," he paused, and looked over at Kingsley. The man gave him an encouraging smile, and he continued. "Therefore, it is with great pleasure that I stand here today to announce this project. We will be opening a children's home for young magical children who have nowhere else to go. It will be open effective as soon as possible, and will stay open for both summer and Christmas holidays, so the students can continue to have a connection to the magical world. I will be donating my own house for the location, and I have a team of my Hogwarts classmates who will be helping to run it."

"What will it be called?" one of the reporters asked.

Harry smiled. "Opening next month - the Remus J. Lupin House."


	5. Logistics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reality has set in, and Harry seeks some friendly advice.

Harry grinned at Kingsley, who laughed. It wasn’t a small chuckle, either. No, it was a boyish, booming laugh that filled the Ministry corridor, and caused other officials to stop and stare. “I wasn’t expecting it, but it works for me,” he told the Minister. 

Kingsley handed back the advertisement. It was a full page Prophet ad for Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes’ newest product - Hogwarts badges that changed the person wearing them so that they were the colors of the House. The ad read, “House Hijinks will be in full color with 3W’s Hogwarts House Badges! Treat your Ravenclaw friends to a dose of Gryffindor pride. Fool your Gryffindor classmates into showing their Slytherin spirit. The possibilities are endless! And all proceeds from our House Badges will go to the RJ Lupin House.”

“You should get ready for more of that,” Kingsley told Harry as they walked back to the Minister’s office. “I’ve already received all sorts of letters from charitable causes hoping to partner with us. So far most have declined my terms.”

“What are those?” Harry asked, taking a seat across from Kingsley. 

“Anonymity,” the Minister said. “Currently, I’d like to keep our circle small. This is a delicate undertaking, and we want to make sure that those involved are in it for the right reasons. Which is why I’ve asked everyone if they would be able to find it in their hearts to keep their gobs shut about their partnerships. So far, no takers,” he said with a shrewd smile. “I expect a lot of people will want to capitalize on the House for publicity - though I’m sure Mr. Weasley’s intentions are quite pure. The five I spoke to already were very obviously looking to make a name for themselves, but I’ll make sure to consult with you if I get any more. But to more pressing matters…. There are two children currently living in a children’s home just outside of London. Both should be attending Hogwarts this year. Their parents were the Knackerlys - some of Voldemort’s final victims. I think we should start with them.”

“How are we going to do this? We can’t just walk in and say, ‘Oi, these two are wizards, and they’re coming with us!’ Do the Muggles even know about them?”

“It will be less of an issue than you think, in fact,” Kingsley said, waving his wand. “In the wake of the chaos, we knew there were certain things that had to change. The International Statute of Secrecy was one of those. Of course, this wasn’t publicized,” Kingsley added at Harry’s confused look. “It was amended, but not retracted. But you tell the public that and they’ll think it means they can go around enchanting their neighbors’ postboxes. But we do have a few high-ranking Muggle officials who are now ‘in the know’. One of them is in child welfare, to help with cases of Magical children needing assistance. Ah, and here is our liaison now!”

“Good to see you, Potter,” said the thick Irish accent behind him. 

Harry turned and rushed to hug Seamus. “Blimey! That’s what your top secret Ministry training was? You’re working with the Muggles now?”

“Aye. Me Mam thinks I’m in the Department of Mysteries. She’s dead proud, so I don’t correct her. Hi Kingsley.”

“Morning, Seamus. I was just telling Potter about the Knackerly boys. Have you spoken to your contacts.”

“Just this morning,” Seamus said. “Our story, when we get to the home, is that we’re social workers from a different jurisdiction. There’s a children’s home in our area that’s less crowded, and we’re here to ask the boys if they’d like to move. Our social worker will be there in case the people working have any...er...tough questions.”  
“So… when do we go?”

“They said they can meet with us this Friday.”

*

Over the next few days, Kingsley’s prediction came true. Harry was receiving at least fifteen letters per day, asking about the Home. Some were from journalists (and he made a mental note to give Luna the exclusive interview) and some were from shops asking what he would need to care for the children. In truth, he’d only thought of a fraction of these things in anything other than conceptual, abstract terms. Now it was getting down to details, and frankly, he was overwhelmed. 

That Thursday, he strolled into what he would forever think of as Fred and George’s shop - even though it was George and Ron’s shop now. He waved to the pair of them, who were busy stocking shelves, but made his way over to the woman standing to the side of the registers. 

“Morning, Angelina!” 

“Hiya Harry,” she said, beckoning him into the office. “So...Ron wasn’t exactly clear yesterday when he told me you needed my help. Something about the house and you not being at home with paperwork.” 

“I need help keeping it all sorted. You do the books for this place, yeah?”

“Too right. George is creative, and Ron is practical, but neither of them like the nitty gritty of business. What have you got for me?”

They looked over the different offers and letters. At some point, Angelina conjured a miniature filing cabinet and began to organize everything. When the last letter had floated into the drawer labeled “Correspondence,” she smiled at him. 

“You’ve got a lot to deal with. I’ll handle the money stuff and item donations, if you take care of the media.”

“You’ve got a deal,” Harry said, melting a bit with gratitude. “Since you’re in charge of the money, I have one last thing to show you.” He pulled out a letter he’d received that morning. It was stamped with the Gringotts crest, and he passed it to her. “Someone’s made an anonymous donation. It’s so big, I have to go and sign for it.” 

“Ten thousand Galleons?” Angelina asked. 

“Do you think it’s legit? I mean...that’s a lot of money.”

“Well...let’s head over to Gringotts and find out. George!”

There was an answering bang! and George appeared in the the doorway to the office a moment later. His hair was smoking. “You rang?” 

“Are you okay?” Angelina asked as Harry laughed. 

“Fine - I dropped one of our boxes of exploding snap. What’s up?”

“Harry and I are headed to Gringotts. Anything you need me to drop off in the Wheezes’ vault?”

“Not today - Ron just went yesterday.”

“Let’s get going,” Angelina said. 

“You said the shop has it’s own vault?” Harry asked as they walked down the sunny street. 

“Yeah - you’ll need one for the Home too.”

“How hard is it to start one?”

“For the Famous Harry Potter?” Angelina asked, giving Harry a playful nudge, “Cake.”

“Why will I need one for the Home? I already -”

“Harry, think about it. Donations coming in - all that support…. And your very first donation is thousands of Galleons? You have to keep it separate from your money. Besides it all being easier to keep track of, you know better than anyone else how the Prophet is. When they get done treating you like a hero, they’re going to want another angle. Thousands of Galleons being shipped to your personal account? Or Neville’s, or Parvati’s? They’ll have a field day. It’ll only take a bit.” 

Harry opened the door to Gringotts. “After you, then.”


	6. Firming Up Plans

Harry ducked as a splash of of paint flew toward him. “I’m seeing now that I should’ve let Parvati and Ron paint the rooms.” 

Neville and Hannah grinned at him. Neville shrugged, but Hannah advanced on Harry. 

“Away, scoundrel!” she said, flicking the brush toward him again. 

Harry waved his wand and deflected the splatter to one of the walls. “I just wanted to check on progress,” he told them, grinning. “We’ve got a meeting with Seamus today. Could have kids moving in by next week. Just making sure you’re not slack - argh!” he screamed. 

Hannah gave a triumphant cackle as she watched Harry clean paint off his glasses. “Gotcha, Potter. Now get out of here so we can finish.”

“Fine,” Harry said, still chuckling. “I’ll be back after my meeting with Seamus. The furniture should be here by noon.”

“Right-o,” Neville said. “And Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“Stop calling your ice cream dates with Seamus ‘meetings’.” 

*

“Blackberry mint,” Seamus said, staring at the triple scoops of ice cream in front of him. “My favorite.”

“I’ll stick to my regular chocolate,” Harry told them as they sat down at the table in front of Fortescue’s. “What are we looking at?”

“We’ve got ten kids ready for transfer. You’ve already met the Knackerly boys. Then there’s Carissa McAvoy, Lennon and Liza Cripslock, Treasure Thompson -”

“Wait…,” Harry said. “This kid’s name is Treasure?”

“Yes - he’s eight years old like Kevin Knackerly and the Cripslock twins. Remind me to get back to the age thing. Anyway...we’ve also got Rupert Mawson, Dellavina Egmont, Freya King, and Quintin Ellesmere. I’ve spoken to all of their social workers, and they’re ready for transfer.”

“You said something about ages?” Harry reminded him. 

“Right.” Seamus took a sheet of parchment and passed it to Harry. “Right now, we’re lucky. All of the kids who lost all of their family in the War are either at Hogwarts, or near Hogwarts age. The youngest is wee Dellavina, and she’s seven. But Kingsley had me do some research, because he knew you were going to ask,” Seamus added, smiling. “There are some kids who are with various relatives. We don’t have any authority to make inquiries cold, so to speak, but if there’s a complaint filed we can.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“Not a problem exactly - just something to think about. We’re talking hypotheticals. If a three-year-old’s remaining family - say, grandparent - dies, do you have resources to care for them? You’ll need to think about it. Hopefully we don’t need to think too much on it, but things other than war take parents from babies. You’ll need to think about what you’ll do if you’ve got to big of an age difference. Right now, it’s seven to twelve. But you never know what the future holds.”  
Harry peered at the sheet of parchment, nodding. 

*

Neville, Hannah, Parvati, and Luna had all moved in that morning, but Ron didn’t show up until the afternoon. He came into the kitchen slowly, almost as if he was nervous, and sat down across from Harry. 

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked. “I thought you were bringing your things today.”

“I’ve been thinking, mate…. Could I still help at the House if I don’t live here?”

“Of course, Ron,” Harry said. “What’s wrong? Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine,” he told him, wiping his hands on his pants. “Fine. I just… I have something to tell you.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m going to propose to Hermione,” Ron blurted. 

“WHAT?” Harry shouted. He jumped up and rushed around the table to hug Ron. “That’s amazing! When are you going to do it?” 

“Later today. Tonight. At dinner. I’m going to ask at dinner. Harry, I’m terrified,” Ron whispered.

“Don’t be,” Harry told him. “Hermione loves you. Don’t worry - just take a deep breath, and get on with it.”

“You’re going to see her this afternoon, right?”

“About a couple of house elves, yeah. I won’t say a word. You’re going to be great, mate.”

“Thanks, Harry. I just thought she’d, you know, like a place of our own.”

“Of course. Do you need anything for tonight?”

“Got any calming potion?”

“As a matter of fact, yes.”

*

Hermione’s office was a flurry of paperwork. Stacks and piles covered both of her desks, memos zoomed in and out, and there were scrolls hanging like screens in the corners behind her desk. She waved her wand and the chaos shuffled as Harry walked in. 

Harry stopped in terror as the paper monster shifted and sorted itself. “Is the paper beast going to eat me?”

“Not unless I tell it to,” Hermione said, “so watch yourself.”

“I’ll be on my best behavior. How are you? If this is a bad time, I can come back tomorrow.”

“You’re fine,” Hermione said warmly. “You need...three house elves?”

“For now. If we expand, we could need more.”

“Expand?” 

“In the future. Just in case - you know.”

Hermione nodded, and pulled out a file from her desk drawer. “Just be careful, okay? Don’t let this consume you.”

“I’m not.”

Hermione gave him a Look. “If you say so. Alright, so the three house elves -”

“Whoa, whoa,” Harry said. “That’s it? You give me motherly advice and just move on?”

“You said you were okay. I believe you. I just don’t want you getting in over your head because of your….”

“My saving people thing?” Harry suggested. 

Hermione hesitated before answering. “Yes, in fact.”

“So which is it? Should I or shouldn’t I be doing this?” Harry asked, a little frustrated. 

“This isn’t a zero-sum game, Harry,” Hermione said softly. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t be doing this at all. I just want you to keep yourself in mind. You’re focused on helping people, but you’re important too.”

“Says the woman who jumped straight into the Ministry after the War.”

“The Ministry needed us for morale, and to structure reorganization. I try to make decisions with my head, not my heart.”

“Good luck, Ron,” Harry muttered, not loud enough for Hermione to hear. 

“What was that?”

“Nothing. So you think I’m not thinking about this?”

Hermione sighed. “I know you are,” she told him. “I just want you to think about how you figure into everything. You know? How and when are you going to take breaks? Where are you going to take breaks? Since you’re moving all of the kids into your own house…. Listen, I’m not saying this is a bad idea at all. And I don’t want to argue with you. One of my pages will escort the house elves to you tomorrow.”

“Sure,” Harry said, signing the papers. “I’ll see you later.”


	7. Revelations

The place gleamed - which was something Harry hadn't thought possible. But the new paint made the rooms cheery, and the new lights they'd installed brightened the place nicely. Harry had gotten name plaques for each of the RJL House employees, and they glimmered next to their doors. Around noon, Hermione and Ron showed up, escorting seven house elves and both beaming.

Hermione nearly flung herself at him, tackling him into a hug.

Harry just grinned over her shoulder at Ron. "Having a good day, then?" he asked, pulling away from Hermione a bit.

"Ron proposed!"

The squealing that came from upstairs would've woken the portrait of Mrs. Black, had Kreacher not finally destroyed it. Luna and Parvati thundered down the stairs, ready for all the details. Neville followed after, rubbing his ears from where the girls had screamed in them.

"Swear in your elves, Harry," Hermione said. "I'll fill everyone in over lunch."

"Which is on us, by the way," Ron said, sending bags zooming into the kitchen.

The elves had been standing happily out of the way, waiting to be called on. They shuffled up when Hermione beckoned to them.

"Er...what do I say?" Harry asked.

Hermione pulled a sheet of parchment out of her bag. "Just read."

It had taken a bit for them to tell the story of the proposal after the elves were sworn in. Ron had taken Hermione to a Muggle fair in London, proposing at the top of the ferris wheel.

"Figured I didn't have to worry too much about the ring falling," he said, grinning.

The girls wanted details on everything, and the just boys wanted to know when they could take Ron out for his bachelor party. Harry finally got a quiet moment alone with Hermione when the whole group tried to talk Ron out of wearing a banana-yellow suit to the wedding. Harry and Hermione, who knew he was (probably) joking, stayed in the kitchen to clear up.

"I'm sorry I got grumpy with you the other day," Harry said quietly. "I...it's just…."

"Harry, it's okay," Hermione said.

"No, it isn't. Don't let me off the hook so easy," Harry told her, smiling. "I want to do good things for people. But I know I get in over my head. And you lot know it too. But I don't like hearing about it, so I get mad. I shouldn't have - I know you're looking out for me. I promise I'll look out for myself too."

Hermione wrapped him in a hug. "Holding you to that, Potter."

When they broke apart, Harry scrunched up his face in thought. "How would you feel about a random, but necessary change in subject?"

"I'll allow it," Hermione laughed.

"I found this when I was cleaning out the library." He opened the drawer and pulled out a slim book. "Had to get most of the pureblood hysteria out of there for the kids, but there were some pretty good things I found in there too."

"Great Wizarding Libraries of England and the Continent," Hermione whispered, in awe. "But this is a first edition!"

"I thought you might like it," Harry said with a shrug. "Ron told me you get time off soon - figured I'm not the only one who could use a hobby."

Hermione was quiet for a long moment. "Is this the official peace offering?"

"Depends - is it working?" Harry gave her a cheeky grin when she rolled her eyes. "I demand a postcard from each of the places you visit, though."

"Deal. Let's go see if we can talk Ron into singing at the reception."

Harry had just finished dressing and brushing his teeth when the knock at his door came. He opened it to find Neville, looking stressed.

"You're not going to like the paper today," Neville said, without preamble. "We made the news again, but I think they're tired of us looking like heroes."

Harry unrolled the paper Neville handed him, and read in absolute horror. He'd thought about worst-case scenarios before - problems with the International Statute of Secrecy, difficulties locating children who needed their help, those sorts of things. But never, in a million years, would he have predicted some reporter calling him a pedophile. Thick rage was clouding his vision a bit, but he got the point of the article. Why would he, Harry, care so much about the kids left after the war? There was a fund for them, after all. They were looked after, more or less. Why did he, Harry, want to bring them to live in secrecy (they hadn't given out Grimmauld's address, for obvious reasons) with him? It must be because Harry had some secret, perverted desires, and saw this as a way to fulfill them while still looking the hero.

"H-harry?" Neville said, hesitantly. "Look, we can go to the Ministry and sue for harassment. I think -"

"I have an idea," Harry said, quietly.

"Er...you do?"

"I do. Is everyone else up?"

"Yeah - Kreacher's just serving breakfast."

"Then give me a moment to write a note to Kingsley. I'll be down in a moment."

Harry took a moment to breathe and get his wits together. Deep down, he'd known that he would have to do this sooner or later. But he'd hoped to wait a little longer. He scratched a quick note to Kingsley, and sent it off with his owl, Vespar. When he got downstairs, the others were deep in conversation.

"He won't get away with this, Harry," Parvati said immediately.

"No, he won't," Harry said, sitting down to his eggs and toast. "I've asked Kingsley if we can hold a press conference after lunch. I'd like you all to be there. We can all give our reasons, or as many of us who want to, but… I think I should warn you about what I'm going to say."

"You don't have to explain yourself to us, mate," Neville said.

"I know. It's more so that you're not caught off guard. It's about me and Voldemort - about his life."

Later that day, Parvati, Luna, Neville, Hannah, and Ron stood behind Harry as he took the podium. Harry smiled back at them, and received various nonverbal encouragement from the group. He took a deep breath, and waited until the Wireless producer pointed at him, and the mic turned purple before he began.

"My name is Harry James Potter," he said. He'd written this whole speech out, and Hermione had tweaked it to add extra punch. "My parents were James and Lily Potter. My godfather was Sirius Black. My greatest teacher and friend was Remus Lupin. The four of them wanted the best for me, but I grew up unwanted and hated. My aunt and uncle feared magic, and punished me, just for being the son of Lily and James Potter. I was beaten, starved, and locked in a cupboard under the stairs." He paused and allowed people to think of that last sentence. "And there's someone who would, if he were alive, understand what I went through. That man's name is Tom Riddle - Lord Voldemort. He went through much the same thing, but I grew up kind, with good friends, and ready to find somewhere I called home. Voldemort began torturing others before his eleventh birthday, and he had followers and was ready to conquer people. Now...we can not say that there will never be another evil wizard who tests our faith and courage. But I want to make sure that it never starts the same way that Voldemort started. The way I started and could've ended up. I began the RJ Lupin House to make sure that as many Wizarding children as possible grow up wanted, cared for, and understanding who they are. Today, an article accused me of wanting to hurt these children. I encourage young Angelus Frobisher - the author of the article - to visit the House any time after it opens, and write based on fact rather than fantasy."

Thirty minutes later, after the conference had ended and the six had finalized the opening date with Kingsley, a hazy cheetah floated down in front of Harry.

"Nice work on the radio," came Angelina's voice. "We got another big donation. Thought you'd want to read the letter before I deposit it. Can you come to the shop?"

"Anything else you lot need me for?" Harry asked the others.

"I think we'll survive here," Ron said, "Tell George and Angelina hi from us."

Weasley's Wizard Wheezes was uncharacteristically closed when Harry got there, but Angelina was waiting.

"George, Verity, and Sampson are reorganizing the shop," she explained, ducking as a box zoomed by. "We had to go ahead and close - it's too dangerous."

"How many boxes of Nosebleed Nougat have you been hit with so far?" Harry laughed as they made their way back to the office.

"Only three. I unwisely failed to announce my presence when I went to the cooler for a drink. Right… I wouldn't have asked you here - the donations are pretty straightforward - but I thought you might want to see this one."

"What's up with it?"

"Er...it's another big one. This time only six thousand Galleons, but still. I there's a note this time."

"For the R J Lupin House," Harry read. "I hope this helps you heal some of the wounds we've suffered. Please take care of the children."

"I've no idea who sent it, but if they want to shower us with gold, then I'm not complain - Harry?"

But Harry wasn't listening. He was looking not at the words of the note, but at the handwriting.

"Harry?" Angelina repeated. "Oi! What are you doing?" she yelped as he shredded the note.

"We don't want it," Harry said firmly.

"Why the hell not?"

"Because it's blood money. I'd recognize that handwriting anywhere. It's from Draco."


	8. Sticking Points

“It could be anyone,” Neville said, huffing. 

Harry grumbled and slumped in his chair. Neville, of course, was right. They’d been discussing the recent news about the RJL House, but at this point they were just talking in circles. They had been to the Daily Prophet earlier that day, and explained that allowing articles like Frobisher’s to be published put the House at risk, and thus, put the kids at risk. The editor’s apology had seemed sincere, but Angelus Frobisher had rolled his eyes throughout the whole thing. That is, until Padma had entered the conversation. Harry smiled, remembering the knockout blow….  
*

_“If I may, Editor James?” Padma asked._

_“Of course, Miss Patil,” he said._

_Padma had been quiet up until that point, but now pulled out the notebook that Harry was beginning to recognize as RJL House Business. She shot a contemptuous glance at Frobisher, before saying, “Mr. Frobisher seems to not be taking this seriously, so I feel the need to detail a few matters for him and you.”_

_Editor James tried to cut in with, “I assure you -” but Padma held up her hand._

_“Please, let me finish. Mr. Frobisher’s article disguised all of these charges as questions, and he seems to think that is enough to cover him, and the Prophet, from legal ramifications. However, the questions fall under the Ministry law enacted during Minister Shacklebolt’s first week in office. Media persons may speculate and pose questions, if they can prove that due diligence and research has been done. Mr. Frobisher did no research - he cannot prove he spoke with the staff, the solicitors, or the Minister about the Lupin House. We, on the other hand, can prove that he has NOT spoken with us. Well enough for the Wizengamot, at least. All of our correspondence is handled through the Ministry, and they keep excellent records.”_

_Harry tried not to grin. So that was what Parvati had been meeting with her sister about, and why she’d insisted that Padma come along to this meeting._

_“Further,” Padma continued, “the sensation article also falls under what in layman’s terms is called the ‘Seed of Doubt’ rule. That is, the questions are worded in a way that plants seeds of doubt to undermine a person or cause, without righteous or explainable justification.” She handed a few loose sheets that looked very impressive to the editor, who had gone quite white. “These are the documents I’ve had my superiors draw up. You may keep them - the Ministry has filed their copies. We simply request that Mr. Frobisher be taken off of any media stories about the House, and we emphasize that should another sensationalized story come from the Prophet, we will be taking legal measures.”_

_Harry couldn’t hide his smile now. He risked a glance at Frobisher._

_The man looked shaken, but tried for a last gust of bravado. “So what, now you’re a trained barrister for the Ministry?” he sneered._

_“In training,” Padma said cheerfully. “As I said, I had my superiors draw this up, and they’ve said they will personally handle any and all incidents that may take place from here on out.”_

_“But...I thought...don’t you work for the House?” Frobisher croaked._

_Padma gave him a Look. “I’ll forgive you for mistaking me for my sister, Parvati.”_

_“This...this is signed by Guthrie Tybalt Vimes,” the editor squeaked. “That’s the top barrister in the Ministry! They say he’s tapped to lead the Wizengamot next!”_

_“He’s my mentor. And he was disgusted with your article,” she added to Frobisher, who looked like he’d been kicked._

_The editor composed himself. “I assure you, you won’t have any issue from us. Apologies, Mr. Potter.”_

_“Accepted,” Harry said, grinning as he shook the man’s hand._  
*

Still, there were rumors. And Frobisher had been adamant that he hadn’t just pulled the questions from his ass. People were buzzing about the House, and Harry really wanted to stop a buzz from becoming a sting. Still, there was only so much a body could do. And he had something else on his mind that was stressing him out. 

“You’re right, Neville,” he said. “Could be anyone, could be hundreds of people, could be two. We’ve got to keep our focus on what’s important. What did you and Parvati think of the calendar?”

“We decided it would be best to give the kids a choice,” Neville told him, sipping his Gillywater. “It’s so close to September first...the ones headed to Hogwarts might not want to be disturbed and have to get used to another new place. So, everyone gets the option: move in next week, or move over Christmas holidays.”

“Sounds good to me. It’s getting late - I should let you go get ready for your date with Hannah,” Harry said with a smirk. 

“Shut it, you. We’re just going for drinks.”

“Have a good time, Neville,” Harry said, as his friend stood to leave. “Really. I’m happy for you.”

Neville blushed. “Thanks, mate.”  
*

Harry banged on the door of number nine. It was a small flat, out in East Wittering, and the only reason he knew who lived here was because he had called in a MAJOR favor that morning before their meeting. 

Draco came to the door and smiled. “Potter,” he said calmly. “Come in. I’d offer you tea, but I don’t think you’d take it.”

Harry entered and stood looking at the two-bedroom flat. Draco, dressed casually in nice pants and a shirt, ushered him to a sitting area. 

“What can I do for you, Potter?” he asked. 

“I was...a little surprised to find you living in a Muggle town,” Harry admitted. 

“Well, the best way for people to not find you, I’ve found, is to build up their expectations and then do the opposite. I happen to know that many expect me to have some huge gothic manor in the countryside, surrounded by...I don’t know, guard Chimeras or something. I like this hideaway. The Muggle woman upstairs bakes red velvet cheesecake brownies every Friday.”

Harry was so perplexed that he decided to ignore all of this and keep going. He took the most recent check from Draco, sent the day before, out of his jacket pocket and handed it back. “We don’t want your blood money.”

Draco laughed. Actually, he guffawed. Harry had never heard Draco laugh at all, so this was more offputting than the revelation that his former nemesis was enjoying fancy brownies from his Muggle neighbor. “Oh Harry…. Just take the money.”  
“No,” Harry said flatly. 

“Potter, you’re rich, but you need other rich people’s help. That’s me, Seamus, Kirkie Prescott from Ravenclaw - he was a few years behind us - and maybe Longbottom. Take the check.”

“I’m not taking your guilt money!” Harry snapped. 

“You’re an idiot then. You can’t sustain this on your own. Plus, I’ve sent them anonymously. No one, other than you and maybe McGonagall, would even have to know. What? Do you think the goblins at Gringotts are going to tell?”

“It’s blood money, and I won’t have it.”

“Potter, I really hoped more of you by this point, but I forgot I’m dealing with a bloody Gryffindor,” Draco sighed. “Let me explain. Yes - this is guilt money. NO, that does not make it a bad thing. I get the politics, but don’t be stupid about it. Not when you’re doing this out of guilt too.”

“I am not,” Harry sputtered. 

“Yes you are,” Draco countered, still flat calm. “You feel bad for all of the death, even though it wasn’t your fault. But you kind of know that you are responsible in a way. You feel bad for the ones like little Teddy Lupin, but who don’t have a loving grandmother and godfather and the whole fucking Weasley armada to look after them. I understand, because some of this was my fault. So let’s let the past stay buried, Potter. I want to help.” He held out the check again. 

Harry knocked his hand away, fuming. “No,” was all he could manage to say before storming out.


	9. For the Children

“I can’t be part of it,” Harry said. 

“Agreed,” Kingsley said, nodding. 

Seamus looked confused. “But why?” he asked. “You’ve been the lead for all of this.”

“Exactly.” Harry sighed and ran his hands through his hair. They were seated with about ten other people - the first time Ministry officials other than Kingsley and 

Seamus had been called to work on this project. “Listen...we put a stop to Frobisher’s meddling, but that doesn’t mean another reporter can’t play into the rumor mill. And, since we played our one card with the Prophet, I’m sure they’ll do due diligence in terms of whatever it is they call research. And they’ll be able to say that I have some sort of agenda to take kids away from their parents.”

“This task force is to be limited in scope,” Kingsley said to the table at large. “You have all been chosen because of your hard work in the Auror department - specifically your work with children who are victims of Dark Magic. You will continue your jobs as normal, but occasionally - I pray very infrequently - you may be called upon to assist in a case that may place a wizarding child at the RJ Lupin House.”

One of the Aurors raised her hand. Her name was Terri, and Harry loved working with her. Due to his limited scope of acquaintances, he hadn’t known her before the war, but he knew that she’d been one of Tonks’s friends. And after meeting her twice, he could tell why. She had a dry sense of humor and loved running quiet commentary during dull Ministry meetings. When Kingsley nodded at her, she asked, “Will these investigations be limited to abuse allegations?”

“Abuse or neglect. Hogwarts professors will be trained in how to...assess these matters,” Kingsley said. “And two of you will work each case. Again...I hope it will be infrequent.”

“And I can’t be a part of it, or else people will talk,” Harry said. 

“I understand that this isn’t within the scope of your normal duties,” Kingsley said. “And I know that this is of a sensitive nature. If any of you are uncomfortable with this appointment, just let me know.”

Harry let his eyes travel around the room, taking in everyone’s reactions. Everyone, as far as he could tell, was willing to go with the plan.  
*

“So… how’s training going?” Harry asked as he and Ginny walked through the park. Ginny had a flat in London now, to be closer to the Quidditch training camp, and the nearby park was one of the perks of the location. 

“It’s going. Gets ridiculously intense some days, but I like my placement.” 

“Good!” Harry said, grinning. “Not tired of getting tackled and dodging Bludgers?”

“Not yet. Plus, you’ve got to take the good with the bad - it’s not all photo ops and Irish whiskey,” she said, laughing. 

They sat down on a bench, away from the groups of Muggle children who were playing in the grass, and the joggers on the path. Ginny gave Harry a look that immediately worried him. 

“What did I do?” he asked. 

She laughed. “You’re so suspicious, Harry James,” she said, fondly. 

“Hark who’s talking! What was that advice you gave me when I went to the Quidditch match in France with Bill? Don’t trust anyone giving me alcohol -”

“I spent three days seeing pixies when I went, you can’t blame me for it.”

They shared a laugh, but Ginny sobered after a bit. She slid closer to Harry, and leaned on his shoulder. “So...you know you need to take that money from Draco, right?”

It surprised Harry so much that he pulled away slightly, but settled back almost instantly, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “How...how do you even know about that?”

“Pansy’s in my training cohort. I believe she’s the only one from your year that he’s still in contact with. She told me to talk some sense into you.”

“What is it with this whole ‘kiss and make up with the Slytherins’ thing?”

“Kiss and make up?” Ginny laughed. “Are you serious? We were reaching for the same peach in the canteen and she brought it up to distract me. Got it too,” she added in a mumble. “But that doesn’t mean she’s not right. You can’t spend your entire fortune on this.”

“Watch me.”

“Harry -”

“No,” was all he said. 

“Fine, but pride will only carry you so far with this.”

“What’s that supposed to mean.”

Ginny sighed, and sat up straight. “I really hoped you’d take up something...not War related. Skiing in the Alps...cooking lessons...tap dancing. But this is it, so we’ll make it work. But in order to make it work, occasionally you’re going to have to get over yourself. I don’t mean,” she said, holding up her hand at his outraged expression, “that you’re not right about Draco or his intentions. I’m not saying that you’re wrong about how the public would react if they found out he was funneling money in.”

“Then what are you saying?” Harry sighed. 

“Listen… you have to stop thinking of this as your pet project,” she said bluntly. “Maybe it started that way, but it’s grown into a full thing with a life - and needs - of its own. And if you keeps seeing it as your project, it’s not going to grow. Not in a healthy way. And you won’t be able to ever relax, which is what you needed in the first place.”

“So what? I just accept whatever checks come from Death Eaters looking for some redemption?” Harry asked. 

“No, but find a way for him to help. He doesn’t have to give money, or be in contact with the children, but figure something out.”

“Why should I?”

“Because this isn’t about you, Potter.”

Potter. She only called him that when she was really annoyed. Harry wasn’t having it though. He was tired of the chiding, tired of the cryptic warnings…. “I don’t want his help!”

“This. Is. Not. About. You!” Ginny ground out. 

“I’m not saying it is!” Harry yelled, aware that people were stopping to stare. He took a deep breath. “I just don’t want him getting glory for this. Turning into some redemption story.”

“Yeah, because it would be unfair if he got all the praise for being a good boy while they’re trying to make you out to be some type of monster.”

“I’m not in this for praise!” 

“I know. But frankly, I’m starting to wonder what you’re in it for,” Ginny said, suddenly sounding tired. “I’m glad the nightmares are gone. I’m glad that you’re sleeping through nights again, but….” She stood, glaring at the eavesdroppers who quickly got moving again. “This isn’t the War anymore, Harry. And this isn’t your fight to fight alone. I understand why you hate Draco, but hate only gives you enough energy to go so far. I have to get back. Practice starts at five tomorrow morning.”  
Harry watched in silence as Ginny headed back up the path to her apartment.  
*

Ten shy smiles. Ten rucksacks. Ten trunks. All of the kids sat quietly in the sitting room as the adults passed around a plate of biscuits and then stood before them. 

Ron smiled and gave Harry a nudge.

“No turning back. They’re here, so get on with it, mate.”

Harry nodded and stepped forward. “I hope you’ll all be happy here,” he began. “I expect you all know who I am, but I’ll start anyway. I’m Harry Potter. I’ll be around during your holidays here, for those of you off to Hogwarts, and those of you who live here year-round will see me quite often. This is Ron Weasley - he’s going to be here, too.”

“I’m in charge of trips!” Ron said, waving at the kids. 

“I’m Neville Longbottom - I’ll be tutoring you.”

“Along with me,” Parvati said. “I’m Parvati Patil.” 

“And I’m Hannah,” was the final introduction. “I’ll be your...well, matron, for lack of a better word. Now how about you introduce yourselves to us?”

The dam of shyness broke, and the chatter began. Harry and the rest pulled up a chair as Tybalt and Kevin Knackerly led the introductions. As the evening wore on, Harry pushed his talk with Ginny to the back of his mind. Everything was going to be okay.


	10. Careful Considerations

Harry was shaken awake two weeks later, and as he groped for his glasses he spotted that it was six in the morning. “Neville? What’s up, mate? Is it one of the kids?”

“No,” Neville said grimly. “Seamus is here, and he wants to talk to us. It’s important.”

Harry hurried through his morning routine, leaving off the shaving for later that day. Parvati and Luna were trooping down the stairs at the same time, looking about as groggy as he felt. They normally got the kids up around eight in the morning, in an attempt to get close to the schedule to Hogwarts as possible. So as the kids were snoozing, the adults met with Seamus about the first possible RJL House rescue.

“We got this letter in the mail,” Seamus said, passing copies around for the team to read it. “The little girl is about thirteen, she says.”

Harry read it quickly, scanning for the major details. Thirteen year old witch living in Somerset, father died in the war, mother not abusive but details pointed toward extreme neglect. But...there was something….

“Seamus, mate, this doesn’t feel right,” Parvati said, vocalizing what everyone was feeling. 

“I know,” he said. “That’s why I’m here. The Aurors felt the same way. When we started this little adventure, we were afraid we’d have kids writing in, mad at their parents and just wanting to come live with The Chosen One -”

“I thought we’d retired that nickname,” Harry grumbled. 

“But we figured those letters would go straight to Harry. After all, they know where to find him at the Ministry, and an appeal to Harry’s heartstrings would make their case - by the logic of a ten-year-old,” he added. “But this came directly to one of the Aurors on the taskforce.”

“Not just that,” Luna said. “What thirteen-year-old talks like this?”

“We’re the only ones who know the whole group of Aurors, right?” Parvati asked. 

“Officially, but I’m sure others in the Ministry know,” Luna said. When everyone looked at her, she elaborated. “The Aurors have had to meet with Harry twice, and I’m sure there was some sort of selection process. People at the Ministry may not know details, but I’m sure that anyone who has been paying close attention to us has guessed a bit of what’s going on.”

“Trouble is,” Neville said, “we don’t know what they’ve guessed, if it’s accurate, and who they’ve passed it on to.”

“The team is ready to treat this as a real investigation,” Seamus said. “But they want me, and one other person from the House on-site in case it’s a false alarm.” 

“Why would they want us there?” Neville asked. 

“Massive on-site shaming,” Seamus said, sighing. “If it’s a kid playing a joke, or someone looking to hurt one of our Aurors, there’s going to be a sting, and we’ll go live on the Wireless to make an example of them.”

Harry sighed. “But if it is a kid who’s in danger?” 

“They won’t see anyone from the house, or any of the other Aurors. Just me and Terri.”

He nodded, stirring his tea absently. “Well...we can’t very well ignore it. Who wants this one?” 

“I’ll go,” Parvati volunteered. “But I think….” She trailed off, looking uncertain. 

“What’s up?” Harry asked, encouragingly. 

“I think you might want to go just this once,” Parvati said. “I know that you can’t be a part of every investigation, but… I’m looking at this two ways.”

“I think I’m thinking the same thing,” Neville mumbled. 

“First option is that this is real. Some thirteen year old kid is begging us to meet her in Diagon Alley whisk her to safety. Fine, but what happens if we get there and the kid panics? No one’s going to calm the situation like you, Harry. Sure, they know us, but you are, and will always be, The Boy Who Lived. You there is going to do more for some scared kid ready to bolt than anything else.”

“Fair, but what if it’s some prank?” Harry asked. 

“Then you need to be there for the fallout,” Neville chimed in. 

“Exactly,” Parvati agreed. 

“I think I’m seeing what you’re seeing,” Harry said, nodding. “Some asshole kid thinks he’s making Merlin-knows-what point. Staring down The Chosen One and half a dozen Aurors should make them lose the attitude. Well, kid says this Thursday at one - shopping for Hogwarts supplies. Parvati, how do you feel about lunch in Diagon Alley on Thursday?”

She gave him a grim smile. “Sounds like a lovely date.”  
*

Harry wandered through Hogsmeade, smiling as the light summer breeze whirled the smell of grass, daisies, and freshly baked bread around him. He was pissed that he had to do this, but at least it was a nice day for it. He pushed open the door to The Griffin's Cafe - a little shop that had popped up in the wake of the War - and strolled over to one of the tables. 

“Morning, Draco.”

“Potter,” Draco said. “Why did it have to be here?”

“Neutral ground,” Harry said. “I wanted to talk about...a few weeks ago.”

“When you stormed out of my house?” Draco asked. “Yes, I remember.”

“I’ve...had time to think about everything you said. I still don’t want your money...but maybe there’s a way you can still help.”

“I’m listening.”

Harry gave him a look for a moment, but continued. “The money thing… it’s going to look bad. We’ve already got people calling me a creep, we don’t need headlines saying the Home is tied to Death Eater funds. But the kids do need things...and you’re still a big name in the Ministry.”

Draco quirked an eyebrow. “What on earth do they need that my name would get them anything good?”

“Therapy,” Harry said, smirking. “It’s mandatory for all Hogwarts students, but most of these kids are pre-Hogwarts. I spoke to McGonagall, hoping that the school’s counselor could help, but… they’re stretched pretty thin. Do you know some names?”

Draco gave a mirthless snort of laughter. “You know I do. Regular evaluation by a team of five counselors was one of the terms of my release, as you very well know.” He paused, sipping some of his gillywater. “I can help out. I’ve rented office space in a wizarding village near London - I’ll talk to some people and arrange a time to meet there.” He took a small notebook out of his briefcase and scribbled the address down. “I’ll send you an owl with their names and the time.”

“Right. I’ll look for it.”

“Potter?”

“What?”

“Thank you.”

Harry shrugged. “It’s not about you. Or me, for that matter. I don’t need your thanks. Let’s just help these kids.”

“Agreed.”


	11. Setting Things Right

Harry and Neville were stationed in one of the first floor rooms. Tom’s granddaughter, Aleera, had been good about the whole thing - they’d sent her the extendable ears in advance, and she had done a brilliant job of setting them up and camouflaging them. Now, they were sitting in comfortable chairs, sipping the tea that Aleera had provided, and listening to Seamus and Parvati talk to the young witch. 

“It’s good to meet you, Delarose,” Parvati said softly. “Have you eaten today? We could order you something.”

“N-no thanks,” the little girl said. “I just want to go. Can you take me to the Home now?”

“Easy does it,” Seamus said, kindly. “We’re not allowed to just take kids to the Home when they ask. Can you tell us about yourself?”

“My...my family used to live up in Liverpool. We moved here to London about three years ago so my mum could take a job at the Ministry….”

Neville and Harry both tapped the notebooks they were holding with their wands. Terri and Oslo, another task force member, were back at the Ministry, ready to fact check what the kid was saying. They’d gotten the Mum’s name - Carastrata McGuinness - and now they just needed to find out more about her. 

“...what does your Mum do at the Ministry now?” Seamus was asking. 

“She’s a cleric in the Department of Magical Catastrophe Response.”

Harry rolled his eyes and tapped the notebook again, sending the information to Oslo. After the War, that department was one of the biggest at the Ministry. This would take a while. He listened again. 

“How did you make it through the War?” Parvati asked. 

“We kept our heads down mostly. Mum’s pureblood, and dad had already died in the Death Eaters’ tunnel crash. They weren’t bothered about our family. She never talked about it. Now she never talks at all.” 

Harry nudged Neville and pointed to the book, but something in the next room over distracted him. He motioned for one of the extra extendable ears, and put it to the wall. He could hear a rhythmic clicking...as though someone was….

“Nevile,” he whispered, but the older man had already stood up and was waving frantically for him to come listen to the parlor conversation again. 

“They caught her in a lie,” he said. “She’s panicking.” He tapped the wall, and it became translucent, allowing them to see through, but remain obscured as long as they stayed relatively still.

The girl was ready to bolt, and the rest of the task force had appeared in the lobby. 

Harry looked down to see where Oslo had written that there was no Carastrata McGuinness in the Ministry. Two more words had appeared - Witch Weekly.   
Everything happened at once. The girl got up and tried to run, but Terri caught her. Harry and Neville strode back into the parlor, and Harry waved frantically at the door next to their room. Aleera obliged and unlocked it just as a woman was throwing her equipment into a bag. She had clearly realized that the girl’s abrupt stop meant that the jig was up. 

“Afternoon,” Harry said, wand out. 

The witch saw the commotion in the parlor and put both hands up. “You let her go,” she demanded, pointing to Delarose. “She’s my niece, and I put her up to this.”

“Your mum’s not neglectful,” Seamus said. “She’s the assistant editor for Witch Weekly. And your aunt is a reporter. What were you trying to do here?” he asked the older witch.

“Expose the Lupin House for what it is,” she insisted. “A scheme to take kids away from their parents. To indoctrinate them with whatever hero-worshiping rhetoric Potter is putting forth. We all know he wants to be the next Minister for Magic!” 

To everyone’s surprise, Harry laughed. 

“Lady,” he said, “I’ll be happy if Kingsley has the job for the rest of both our lives. I’m not explaining myself any more than I already have. You’re a schemer - feeding off of people’s fears and uncertainty to try and boost Witch Weekly’s failing ratings. You could have put someone in real danger, you know? If that story had run,” and here, Harry waved his wand and sent the transcript zooming from her purse to the nearby fireplace, “the biggest issue wouldn’t be that we would have to answer for ourselves. No, it would be that kids who ARE being mistreated might be afraid to come forward. Or their parents might get scared and monitor them so closely that they wouldn’t be able to reach out.” Harry realized he was yelling and took a deep, shuddering breath. “You’re part of the reason Voldemort got as powerful as he did.”

The witch gasped and actually looked a little hurt. “How dare -”

“I dare because your magazine and others ran this trash about me for years. We could’ve been fighting him earlier, if any of you cared about truth as much as scandal. I’m done here,” he said, turning to Terri. 

“Get on out of here, Potter,” she said. “You too, Parvati, Neville. We’ve got this.”  
*

Harry rang the doorbell to Ginny’s flat, and held out the bouquet of fresh orchids when Ginny answered. “I hope you don’t mind me stopping by,” he said. 

She smiled and stood aside so he could enter. “Of course not. The flowers are gorgeous.”

“Neville smacked me when I said I was going to bring roses. I still need to work on my romance skills, apparently,” Harry told her as they sat down on the sofa. 

“Well as long as you know better than to propose in the middle of one of my Quidditch matches.”

Harry’s face went carefully blank. 

“Potter….”

“I would never,” he said smoothly, axing that idea from the list. “And anyway...I heard through the grapevine that that won’t even be a possibility for about a year.”

Ginny smiled as she put the flowers into the vase on the coffee table. “I’m going back to Hogwarts for my final year. I know it sounds stupid, but I… I want to finish what I started. Captain Horan is letting me go on reserve - so they’ll only call me up if someone is injured. Then I’ll make the regular squad next summer.”

“That doesn’t sound stupid at all,” Harry said, kissing her cheek. “I think it sounds great. Plus, I’m sure Hermione and Luna will be happy to have you there this year.”

“I can’t believe Hermione’s going back!” Ginny said, and then laughed at Harry’s expression. “Okay, yes I can. It’s just like Hermione to be a big shot in the Ministry and studying for NEWTs at the same time.”

They lapsed into comfortable silence, and Ginny moved to rest against Harry’s shoulder. He put an arm around her and kissed her forehead. It was like this for them - their tense moments always melted away with time, and physical closeness. Harry knew Ginny wasn’t mad at him anymore, and he wasn’t upset with her. One day both of them were going to have to learn how to actually apologize, but this was all that was needed for now.

“I took your advice,” he said after a long moment. 

“Er...which bit?” Ginny asked. 

“All of it?” Harry said, trying to remember. “I got a flat out in Great Missenden. Close enough to the city, but I can take breaks when I need to get away from the Home for a little bit. And I talked to Malfoy. He’s getting a few therapists on board to help with the kids.”

“That’s a great idea, Harry,” Ginny said, sitting up. “Really. I’m glad you worked something out. Are you hungry at all? I was thinking of ordering a pizza.”

“Sounds great to me, as long as you leave off the pineapple.”


End file.
